WINGS OVER GILLESPIE

Aging vets who worked with fabled planes share spotlight at Wings Over Gillespie

El Cajon 
Wings Over Gillespie is an air show, but this past weekend’s two-day extravaganza sometimes resembled a high-flying class reunion.

From his wheelchair, Frank Provenzano admired a restored F4U Corsair. Now a Scripps Ranch resident, Provenzano had serviced Corsairs in 1942 and ’43 when he lived in a much tougher neighborhood: Henderson Field on Guadalcanal.

“That was good duty,” said Provenzano, 89. “I wasn’t shot.”

Nathan Waters, 92, traveled from his Camarillo home to this El Cajon airfield to see the world’s last flying PB4Y-2 Privateer. “This brings back a lot of old memories,” said Waters, who piloted Privateers and B-24s during World War II.

Because this was the 18th annual Wings event, the organizers — Air Group One, the local branch of the national Commemorative Air Force — are no longer surprised about the passions stirred by these old aircraft. The show featured some pre- and post-World War II planes, but the emphasis was on the fighters, bombers and cargo planes built in San Diego between 1941 and 1945, and on the Americans who repaired and crewed them.

This year’s show drew more than 10,000 people, ranging from infants to retirees. They were entertained by mock dogfights, sky divers and aerial stunts, all accompanied by running patter from a narrator with an elevated sense of humor.

“If at first you don’t succeed,” he quipped, “so much for wing walking.”

The biggest draw seemed to be the World War II survivors, both machines and humans. The veterans — identifiable by their gray hair and campaign hats — received rock-star treatment. They fulfilled requests to pose for photographs and recount their stories, often to people whose knowledge of this era has come only through movies, TV shows and books.

Waters recalled how, more than 70 years ago, he flew missions across the Atlantic Ocean. When a crew crashed on Greenland, Waters’ plane was sent to rescue 10 men who had taken refuge in an ice cave. Because his Privateer could only transport a few people at a time, Waters was required to make three trips, each time landing on an ice field.

“The third time we had to stay overnight,” he said. “The temperature got down to about minus 40 degrees.”

These stories seemed especially vivid at Gillespie Field, where paratroopers once trained to leap out of planes over Normandy for D-Day. Many of those soldiers never returned; during World War II, an average of 220 Americans died every day.

Mortality is also relentless today: The survivors of combat campaigns in Europe and the Pacific are vanishing at an accelerating pace. That’s why Escondido’s William Jackman, 59, snapped a shot of his 21-year-old niece, Patricia Jackman, talking to Provenzano.

“There are only a few of these guys left,” William Jackman said. “Men like these are the reason we have the right to be who we are.”

While serving as a vivid reminder of World War II’s human costs, Wings carries a major financial price tag. It cost about $156,000 to produce the show, said Rich Kenney, its volunteer marketing director.

The Privateer, for instance, burns 265 gallons of fuel an hour.

To save money, most planes are operated by unpaid crews — and, it seems, they are always looking for more volunteers. At an air show two years ago, Provenzano noticed an oil slick beneath a Lockheed PV-1 Ventura’s engine. Having worked on Venturas during the war, he knew the patrol bomber’s tendency to leak oil. He brought this problem to someone in charge.